


Moondust Specks in the Galaxy

by GilgaNyan (NarryEm)



Series: History Makers!!! on ICE [38]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Heavy Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Science Fiction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/GilgaNyan
Summary: To Yuri Plisetsky, the rebels and the Empire are as real as his family: non-existent in the immediate world.  He hardly has the leisure to think about that kind of shit when he has his own business to run and a reputation to hold up.Enter Otabek, an injured Stormtrooper that he finds on an Imperial-occupied planet’s moon.  He is the very anti-thesis to everything that Yuri stands for.Then why can’t he leave the guy behind?





	1. Ain't Got a Soapbox I Can Stand Up On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "What Do I Know" by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> [HERE'S AN AMAZING FANART LILIEMM FROM TUMBLR DREW ME IT IS SO THAT I WANNA CRI EVERYTIEM](https://liliemm.tumblr.com/post/159691922400/after-ive-read-kenmanyan-24s-amazing-star-wars)  
>  
> 
> When I went to see _Rogue One_ ,I ended up thinking up a story inside my head instead of focusing entirely on the movie. Violence tag is for later chapter(s). Heads up for Yurio’s foul language and mentions of torture, past trauma, will add more later.  
> 
> Please don’t read too much into the descriptions of mechanical stuff as I am not an engineer and took tonnes of artistic liberties.  
>  ~~April: wow it only took me three months to write this much, eh? I had originally planned to post the completed longish fic but alas, shit happened.~~

 

_“Gramps, what are you doing now?” Yuri asks, handing him the wrench as asked._

_Gramps pats him on the head with a grease-covered head, smiling fondly at him.  “I’m redesigning the structure of the wings.  This is what they call an X-wing.  They are good for stealth missions and make stellar snipers.  However, the shape of their wings prevents total stealth and one hundred percent freedom from the elements of its surroundings.  If the battle moves into a densely packed area, the X-wing is at an disadvantage whereas a bigger ship can simply bomb the whole area.  If I can make the wings fold over like this whilst maintaining optimum velocity without overheating the thrusters, we have got ourselves the X-wing-delta, as I call it._

_“See how the wings fold around the cockpit?  This allows for extra defense without having to sacrifice vision.  Here, why don’t you try working on the last wing?”_

_“Really, Gramps?  What if I blow it up by accident?”_

_Gramps guffaws. “I doubt that will happen, Yurochka.  You are the most talented engineer that I have had the pleasure of teaching.”_

_Yuri grins. “That’s ‘cause I had the best engineer in the galaxy to teach me!”_

_He giggles as Gramps puts down the tools and scoops him up.  Yuri pretends to squirm in protest as Gramps lays a kiss on both of his cheeks.  His beard scratches against Yuri’s face, a familiar, comforting sensation that he associates with the words ‘home’ and ‘love.’_

_It takes Yuri and his gramps the rest of the day to finish remodelling the wing.  As soon as he completes the remodelling, Gramps prompts him to climb into the cockpit and pull on the lever.  With a loud groan and a creak, the wings fold into their new delta position.  The ship takes off smoothly, and Yuri can’t feel the usual rickety rumbling of the engine that signals them to have a thorough look at the thrusters and the reactor._

_“Yeah, I had a look into those while I was at it,” Gramps explains with a shrug when Yuri steps off the X-wing.  “Come now, child.  Enough work for the day.  Let’s go home and eat some pirozhki, okay?”_

_Yuri beams.  “Okay, Gramps. Can I help you this time?”_

_Gramps smiles back at him.  “Of course, my Yurochka.  Just don’t try to burn down the kitchen again, please.  We have to stay inconspicuous.”_

_The corner of Yuri’s lips twitch up.  “I know, Gramps.  I know.”_

_Gramps takes Yuri’s tiny, pale hand into his large roughened and tanned hand.  They climb into an escort fleet that Yuri stumbled across a few weeks ago._

_Yuri is excited.  He can’t wait to go home and eat some delicious pirozhki._

_But before they can even take off, Yuri spots three Imperial fighter jets on the horizon. And before Yuri has the time to blink, they are flying over Yuri and his—_

 

 

Yuri wakes up, his body covered in cold sweat and trembling from the cold.  This is why he hates going to a desert planet for a job.  He can never deal with the sudden temperature drops overnight.  Fan-fucking-tastic.

He wipes the remainder of sleep from his eyes.  The pocket light he invented (when he was around four with lots of help from Gramps) floats up as he sits up.  Stretching, he allows himself to admire the view of the vast desert for a brief moment.  It’s completely dark outside of his ship even with three moons lighting up the night skies.  The planet lacks geographic variation, which made setting up the rendezvous point a fucking pain.  

“Hand over the goods at sunrise and get the fuck out,” Yuri reminds himself.  He has done some research on this planet and to his disappointment, it’s under Imperial rule.  It’s best that he limit his stay to the minimum to avoid any possible altercations.  If the saying that it’s always the darkest right before the sun rises holds a grain of truth, he only has a short time to go before the sun shows up.  He is pretty damn sure that that the planet only has one sun.

Yuri picks up a water container and takes a gulp from it.  He sits up so he can pack up his makeshift camp.  He is not in the moods to go back to sleep, especially not after that dream; he can sleep when the job is done.  

 

Fast forward a few hours and he has another successful deal under his belt.  He takes pride in knowing that his name is well-known around black market in this neighbourhood of the galaxy.  There used to be a time when he couldn’t find clients solely due to his age and lack of experience as defined by the veteran dealers.  He will never forget the looks on their faces when he showed them the ship he had modded and had been flying for years.  Suffice to say, it only took a few months of drivers’ gig before he could handle solo deals.

Yuri is about to return to his ship when he sees smoke dance up from over the hill next to which he parked his ship.  He frowns.  His research did not pull up any ongoing disputes on the parent planet nor its moons.  The rational part of his mind urges him to hurry to his ship and leave whilst his curiosity urges him to check out the scene.  Yeah, it won’t hurt him to go take a glance at whatever is going on.  It’s probably only a bonfire.

“Fucking hell,” Yuri mutters as soon as he reaches the top of the hill.

Below him burns a pile of bodies.  The rancid smell of burning flesh and fabrics makes Yuri’s eyes sting.  He curses the fact that this particular moon has an oxygen-rich air, negating the need for a protective that would block out the odour.  He can gather from the broken and abandoned weapons that a raid took place and there were casualties, to say the least.  The huge divots, darkened ground, and mechanical debris hint at a bombing, or even a laser attack.

“So the rebels live on,” Yuri mutters.  

He jogs downhill to inspect the scene closer up.  If he is lucky, he will find some items that he can sell.  If not, well, this is not the first time that he has had the displeasure of seeing corpses.  (It is, however, the first time he has seen burning bodies.)

As he approaches the dying bonfire, a quiet _thump_ catches his attention.  Yura whirls around to face the source of the sound, ready to fire his pen-shaped blaster at it.  The source turns out to be none other than a person clad in a white armour from head to toe.  Most of their armour is covered in soot and dented, presumably from the impact of whatever hit this area.  The unique shape of the helmet makes it clear who this person is:

A fucking Stormtrooper.

The Stormtrooper sits up, resting their body weight heavily on their arms.  They attempt to scramble away, only to fall flat on their back after a few seconds.

Yuri knows that it is in his best interest to leave the soldier to die.  Everyone in the black market says that anyone associated with the Empire is a douche canoe.  Yuri has experienced the gruesome deeds that are carried out by the Empire, even though his head blocks out most of those memories.

But he can’t stop his legs from carrying him towards the injured Stormtrooper.  He takes the helmet off the soldier, revealing a human man with tanned skin and soulful eyes filled with fear and confusion.  He opens his mouth but no words come out.

“Stay still,” Yuri orders.  

He fumbles with the damned uniform to get the man out of it.  The man is clad in thin black long-sleeved jumpsuit and boots underneath the armour.  Patches of his clothes are stained with blood.  Yuri sighs before he takes out a switchblade from his pocket and tears the soldier’s jumpsuit open down his torso.  Luckily, none of the cuts look dire despite the numerous bruises and scars that cover his body.  He pats the man’s body down to check for broken bones, which he does not find.

When he looks up after the cursory examination, he is met with the man’s deep eyes staring blankly at him.  Yuri narrows his eyes.  Why hasn’t this man said anything?

“Do you understand me?” Yuri asks as he sits up and leans away from the soldier.  

The man nods.  He points at his throat and shakes his head.

“You’re mute,” Yuri mutters.  He sighs again.  “Whatever.  Can you st—oy!”

The Stormtrooper keels over.  Yuri manages to catch the guy and damn, he is heavy.  It must be the muscles.  Soldiers are supposed to have a fit body, aren’t they?

Yuri has half a mind to ditch the Stormtrooper and never look back.  He _is_ the Empire’s lapdog, after all.

But he can’t.  

“You’d better be useful when you wake up,” Yura grits out as he slings the man’s arm around his shoulders.  He berates himself for walking over the damn hill instead of flying over it.  Oh well; he can use this as an excuse to spend the next week holed up remodding his ship.

 


	2. kill me with kindness

KZ-H305 wakes with a dry itch in the back of his throat and a heavy, bone-deep lethargic state of his body, which is laid out on the side on a hard surface.  When he attempts to open his eyes, they refuse as though they are being held down.

“Do not move,” an unfamiliar voice warns.  “Half dead or not, you still are a lapdog of the Empire.”

He opens his mouth to inquire about this “Empire” but only silence is released.  Fear grips his heart. The last thing that he remembers playing tag with his mates on his home planet. He must be aboard a spacecraft, if the constant buzzing is of any indication.

KZ-H305.  That is not his name.

The what _is_ his name?

The person sighs and zaps him on the side of his neck with a small device. He is now able to open his eyes, but the fact that he cannot speak reminds unchanged.

He has to struggle to sit up as his hands and ankles are bound by thin, but nonetheless sturdy cords.  He does not have to look up far to meet the gaze of his captor.

The captor in question turns out to be a young human with the colour of afternoon sun’s rays and eyes the colour of gentle spring, now filled with malice and suspicion.

“Can you even understand me?” the boy scoffs, crossing his thin, grease stained arms. He appears to have in the middle of working on something in the interior of the spacecraft.

He nods slowly.

The boy mutters to himself as he sets down some tools.  He pulls up the lever behind him, causing the spacecraft to quake twice.

“Here,” he says in a brusque tone. The holds a water pouch to his lips and helps him drink from it.

“I would ask for your name but you’ve not spoke a word since I took you with me two mornings ago.  What the fuck happened to you?”

He shrugs.  The last hazy memory that his mind conjures up is a desert scenery with endless dunes and crimson and violet skies peppered with stars and a set of twin moons.

“I can’t very damn well keep calling you a Stormtrooper bastard. You’ll be Otabek from now on.  If you got a problem with that name then you can say it to my fist as you fall thousands of kilometres off this ship.”

Otabek nods slowly.  Otabek. He likes the sound of that.

“Whatcha smilin’ like an idiot for?  Don’t you have a name the Empire cunts call you by?”

Otabek shakes his head.  Each soldier were given an identification number when they commenced training.  Although he is sure that he must have had a name that his true family called him by, he is happy with his new name ‘Otabek’.

“I guess I should tell you my name, too,” the boy grumbles. “It’s Yuri.  Not that you’ll be calling me by that.  Since you can’t talk, come up to my side if you ever need me.  Sneak up behind me and I can’t guarantee your safety.  Got it?”

Otabek nods.

Yuri holds out his hand.  Otabek stares at it blankly.

“You’re supposed to shake it, you airhead.  Did the Empire take your common knowledge away?”

Otabek shakes his head.  He wants to explain to Yuri that all that he has been taught is how to fight and eliminate all his life.  But he cannot convey that through mere head shakes and gestures.  He has no choice but to peer down at Yuri as the boy undoes his bindings.

“Fuck.  That’s gonna leave a mark,” Yuri mutters.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  I had to make sure you wouldn’t escape back to the soldiers and report me or whatever.  Here.”

Yuri takes out a small tin from his jacket pocket and rubs a salve into the bruises and sores on Otabek’s wrists and ankles.  It stings at first but the salve warms up and leaves a tingling sensation behind.

“That is supposed to help prevent scarring.  Speaking of, you had so many on ya.  Must be tough being a trained killing machine for the Empire, eh?”

Otabek shrugs.  His memories of being a soldier are as hazy as his life before that.  The strongest memory he has is of waking up a few minutes ago.

He takes this moment to scan his surroundings.  The spacecraft is old-fashioned and full of odd pieces of technology.  When Yuri notices Otabek’s gaze linger on certain parts of the spacecraft, Yuri grins proudly.

“Bet you don’t see things like that back where you are from.  I invented those myself.  Well, I can’t take all the credit for myself since Gramps designed the basic mechanics . . .” Yuri trails off.  His green eyes fill up with sadness and rage.  “Never mind.  Go take a seat and strap yourself in.  We are in for a long haul.”

  


The ‘long haul’ turns into a full day’s worth of flying through solar systems.  Yuri is not a man of many words but he does explain that since his ship is old, it cannot handle frequent hyperspace jumps.  

Yuri has got an intriguing personality.  Judging by his appearance, he cannot be older than an adolescent in human standards.  However, his sharp gaze is always alert and never lets his guard down.  Otabek has observed Yuri continuously making sure that they are not being tailed or spied upon.

Their destination is a desert planet not unlike the one from Otabek’s faded memories.  Its sun has set by the time the ship lands, the skies dyed in a swirl of dark greens and black.

The ship appears to have been modified numerous times by Yuri.  There are handles, levers, and buttons that do not seem to fit the original machine and each has a function that one would not normally see in a spacecraft.  For example, one of the levers causes the ship’s wings to fold, thus forming a triangular shape around the cockpit and adding an extra layer of protection whilst allowing for a stealthier manoeuvre.  An orange button results in a reduce in speed but instead activates a wider net of radar detection and automatic missile firing.

Yuri beckons for Otabek to follow him to the back of the ship.  Two hammocks are set up side-by-side above a trapdoor.  There are large windows on either side and Yuri taps on a small spherical object, which in turn emits a pale golden glow.

“We’re gonna go to the black market tomorrow,” Yuri informs him.  “Stick close to me and don’t do anything suspicious.  I will give you some of my—some old clothes I happen to have so you don’t stand out.  Who even goes around wearing all-black these days?”

A tinge of warmth sparks inside of Otabek’s chest.  He doesn’t realise that his lips have stretched into a smile until Yuri glowers at him.

“What’s so funny?  Ugh, whatever.  Go to sleep now.  We have to leave when the sun comes up.”

  


~★~

  


It’s odd.

Yuri keeps waiting for the signs that the Imperial soldiers are shadowing his steps but he has not come across any suspicious individuals since he picked up Otabek nine days ago.  

He has not realised how long he had been alone until Otabek sort of came into his life.  He had long grown used to solitude.  Now every morning, he sees Otabek awake and smiling and as silent as ever.  He has heard of rumours that whisper of the Empire brainwashing its soldiers; Otabek’s muteness could be the result of that.  Whatever the case may be, Yuri has not heard Otabek speak.

He has been trying to teach Otabek how to write.  There is only so much that Otabek can ‘say’ with nods and hand gestures.  Then he quickly realised that he is as good as illiterate, only knowing bits and bobs of the Common Tongue alphabet.

 

“Beka,” Yuri calls out, and stops short in his tracks.  People curse at him as he is stood in the middle of a marketplace.  Shit.  He did not mean to call the former soldier that.  The nickname just slipped out and it really suits the silent man.

Otabek smiles, as though he liked that nickname.  Alright.  Yuri supposes that he can keep calling Otabek by that.

“I told you not to wander off when we’re in a crowded place.  I’m not gonna go look for you if you get lost.”

Otabek rolls his eyes, as though doubting the sincerity of Yuri’s eyes.  Yuri supposes Beka is right to doubt him.  Despite the short period of time that they have spent together, Yuri is already fond of Beka.  There is something about Beka that helps Yuri feel relaxed and happy, which is ironic considering what Beka used to be.  But he cannot deny the fact that he has not had that wretched dream since he decided to take Beka in.

  


~★~

 

_The ship rumbles into life and Yuri straps himself in.  But before the ship takes off, Yuri spots three Imperial fighter jets on the horizon. In a few heartbeats’ time, the jets are flying over the ship and bombarding them with miniature missiles._

_“Yurochka!” Gramps yells out.  He takes off his jacket and wraps Yuri in it.  The ship shakes with the impact of the explosives and fearful tears blur Yuri’s vision._

_“Listen carefully.  You recall what we practiced?”  Yuri nods.  “Good.  Go stay in there until I send the firefly lamp.”_

_Gramps draws him into a tight hug.  “I love you, Yurochka.  Now run!”_

 

Yuri wakes up with his heart in his throat, his entire body covered in cold sweat and his mouth drier than Tatooine and its twin suns and his hands will not stop shaking and fuck, he is under an attack, they’re gonna take Gramps away again, they’ll—they’ll fuckin—they will take him to the Sith lord or whatever and make him feel wretched and hollow and useless and worthless and like a fucking newborn whelp all over again he doesn’t ever want to go back—no he would rather kill himself if it comes down to it and never again, no, he won’t he won’t, they can’t take him, fuck the Empire and its cunts and

Someone touches his shoulder.  Our of sheer reflex, Yuri strikes out.  His elbow connects with something solid like a bone but his attacker does not stop.  His attacker comes in even closer and Yuri can’t see, he can’t fucking see in the dark at all the as Yuri’s heart jumps to the back of his throat when a pair of hands cover his ears.

He recognises these hands.  The warmth of them, roughened skin and the comforting presence.  Yuri can’t fucking see and he fucking loathes the dark he doesn’t want to stay here anymore he wants to go home but home is destroyed.  Gramps blew it up and then the Empire’s bitches finished the job when they fuckin’—

The jumbled images stop flashing behind his eyes as soon as Otabek tilts his head down and presses his forehead against Yuri’s.  Yuri struggles to breathe.  Too close, too close, go away, stay with me, go away, why are you here, why haven’t you left me, why do you stay around someone like me why why why Otabek I don’t get you at all have they wiped your intelligence away too I’m not worthy of your kindness why fucking go away—

The cacophony of Yuri’s own thoughts is silenced in a heartbeat as Otabek strokes his cheeks.  Yuri blinks.  Awful, hideous sobbing sounds are echoing off the walls and oh.  That’s his own ugly sobs.  He didn’t even realise that he has been crying.  His entire face is wet with tears and he can hear the teardrops dripping down from his chin to the floor.  He must have fallen out of the hammock in the wake of the nightmare.

Beka listens.  He waits.  He keeps holding Yuri in his awkward little embrace until Yuri’s shoulders stop quaking and he starts to hiccough.  Yuri does not understand.  Why is Beka doing this?  Nothing good comes out of being a pure hearted altruist so why?  Beka should have slit his throat or taken him back to the Empire as soon as he healed.  Was his brainwashing truly erased from his brain?  

“Beka . .  .” Yuri whispers.  Otabek is still covering his ears, and it does not look like he will release him anytime soon.  “I, I’m fine.  Let me go.”

Otabek does not listen.  Instead of letting Yuri go, he shifts his hands down to Yuri’s shoulders, trapping him in a proper embrace.

“Stop it,” Yuri protests.  “Let’s go back to sleep.  We have a long day ahead of us.”

Again, Beka does not listen.  He only response is to hold Yuri even more tightly.  Yuri sighs.  Can he do this?  Can he trust this former Stormtrooper?  Can he be one hundred percent sure that this is not all a part of a master plan?

He has to.

Trust is earned and Beka has earned it a thousand times over in the past few weeks that they have been flying all over the galaxy.

So he does it.

He raises his hands and rests them on the small of Beka’s back.

The warm sensation amplifies and he can feel Beka’s calming heartbeat through their embrace.  It is the only thing that is keeping the panic at bay and fills Yuri with calmness and strength.

“Beka,” Yuri whispers.  “Why are you so good to me?”

Of course, Beka does not respond.  He raises a hand to touch the firefly lamps strewn on the floor.  Yuri breathes a sigh of relief as his field of vision is lit up by the warm glow.  Beka must have turned it up to the maximum bright since Yuri has to squint for a minute until his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Beka’s shoulder.  Beka’s reply comes in the form of a pat on the head.

And somehow, that means so much to Yuri.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AMAZING art by [hundredpercentofe](http://hundredpercentofe.tumblr.com) (commissioned him months ago, whoops) 
> 
> don't worry, there will be some romantic development in the next chapter . . . I think


	3. Your Heart is All I Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran

 

It’s still awkward.

Yuri has not gotten used to living with someone and that incident several days ago did not do much to close the gap between them.

Which is why he gladly accepts the shipment job from Earth.  The long trip means that he can spend it either tinkering with machine parts or sleeping for the majority of the travel time.

The journey to the surface of Earth was a long and tedious one even with hyperspace travelling.  Since Yuri’s spaceship was not designed to handle long-distance treks, they have to stop often in-between jumps.  If Otabek could talk, things would have been less boring and, well, awkward.

“Have you been to Earth?” Yuri asks, two days into the trip.

Otabek shakes his head.  He points to his head and makes a rueful face.

“You don’t remember much about your life as a Stormtrooper, eh?” Yuri mutters.  “My best guess is that they used some brainwashing procedure that messed with your brain.  That can explain your muteness.”

Otabek shrugs.  It’s obvious that Otabek doesn’t mind his inability to speak at the moment.  Yuri’s mind wanders back to that night when his nightmare came back tenfold.  A simple touch from Otabek drove away the fear that had been gripping at his heart.  Come to think of it, Yuri hasn’t dreamt about Gramps since then.

He has never been the one to believe in faery tales but he has heard the rumours.  The Jedi knights are allegedly back and helping the rebels.  That eerie calmness that Otabek lent him was not natural and if Yuri were to believe in Jedi and the Force, perhaps Otabek has a knack for the Force or some shit like that.

“I think you’ll like Earth,” Yuri says.  “It’s one of the greenest planets I’ve seen.  I heard that centuries ago, humans were stupid enough to pollute their planet to the point of their own extinction.  When the Federation contacted Earth, their primary condition for joining the Federation was to help restore Earth back to its original, verdant state.  You don’t see a lot of Earthlings who stay on their mother planet these days for that reason.  It’s as though they’re afraid of defiling their planet like their ancestors did once upon a time.”

Something lights up in Otabek’s eyes.  Or maybe it’s the passing comet’s tail reflecting in those warm brown depths.

Yuri clears his throat.  “I’m gonna go to sleep now.  We should be at our destination by the time we’re awake again.”

Otabek nods.  He comes over to Yuri’s seat and pats him on the shoulder.  That’s another thing.  Lately, there has been an increase in these casual touches.  And each time, Yuri feels the warm, comforting sensation radiate from Otabek’s hand.

Fucking hell.  Something must be messed up in _his_ head, if he starts to believe in the Jedi and the Force bullshit.  Hopefully, adequate amount of sleep will drive the insanity out of his head. 

As waves of sleep washes over Yuri, a thought occurs to him: he has never seen Otabek asleep.  Must be a remaining habit from his soldier days.  Whatever.  It’s not like that matters.

 

 

As Yuri predicted, they are closing in on the Earth’s atmosphere when he wakes up.  The Earth’s sun is dimmer than the stars he is used to seeing in his home planet.  The moon glows faintly with the reflected light, its surface covered with craters and remnants of failed attempts at terraforming.

The ship quakes as they descend onto the Earth’s surface.  Yuri is almost worried that the outer layers of his ship might burn up but thankfully, nothing like that happens.  He ends up landing a few kilometres off his intended destination.  He has to set his ship in a hovering mode to crawl to the rendezvous point.

Otabek has come to stand next to him during the rowdy landing process.  Yuri realises that the calm clarity in his head has been due to Otabek’s hand on his shoulder.  He doesn’t react to it on the outside

“You might wanna bundle up,” Yuri advises.  They are in the area of what used be called Russia, one of the coldest regions on Earth.  “I bought some parkas and thermal trousers in your size.  They’re in the sleeping area.”

Otabek nods before he heads to the sleeping area as instructed.  Yuri takes his coat hung on the back of his seat and puts it on.  The fur lining on the hood tickles his forehead and the thick animal-hide gloves reduce mobility in his fingers.  He hopes that he won’t have to take out his blaster.  At least he finds solace in the fact that Otabek looks just as ridiculous as he in the winter get-up.

They meet up with their client without a hitch on the outskirts of what used to be a major city.  The buildings lie in ruins, blanketed in a thick layer of snow, untouched by human activity.  All that is left to do is carry the freight back to their ship.  It’s damn handy that Otabek’s scarred, muscular body cuts down the transportation time in half.  If Yuri had been by himself, he would have struggled with the freight and ask the client to help with the moving.

“Thanks,” Yuri mutters as Otabek offers a hand up into their ship.  Wait.  Since when did the spacecraft become a home for them?

Yuri shakes his head as though it will clear his head.  Otabek regards him with concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Yuri grumbles.  He dusts off the snowflakes from the top of his head.  “You should brush off your coat, too.”

Otabek purses his lips before he does as he is told.  Yuri returns to the pilot seat and pulls up the map of the Earth.  Not much has changed in the landscape since his last visit here.  Back when he was a small kid, his grandfather used to take him to Earth often.  It was a treat for younger Yuri and he loved visiting the antique shops.  One of the many artifacts that Yuri had salvaged for himself was a cassette player.

According to the shopkeeper—who was an Earth halfling—the cassette player was popular during the 1970s through 1990s.   They have gone practically extinct in the past several centuries as the preferred method of listening to music have reverted to live performances or none at all.  He had also acquired what the shopkeeper called a gramophone.  However, the vinyl records for that device was harder to come by than a cassette.

Anyway, Yuri has been planning on going to that same shop he used to visit a decade ago for his cassette collection.  This trip is the perfect opportunity to add to his collection.

“Here,” Yuri digs up the cassette player and hands it to Otabek.  He doesn’t remember which album he played last but that doesn’t matter.  “It’s called a cassette player.  You press the triangle shape and music will flow out of the speaker.  It’s a fucking antique so be careful, ‘kay?”

Due to its age—the thing is older than Yuri himself, after all—it takes a few impatient clicks and Yuri cursing at it before the first song plays.  Yuri recognises the singer as Elton John, but its title escapes him.

The confused yet intrigued look on Otabek’s face is hilarious, though.  He is enjoying it but it’s evident that he has never heard music prior to this moment.

“I guess you don’t have the time to play a few tunes when you’re busy massacring people all over the galaxy,” Yuri mutters.  If Otabek heard him say that, he doesn’t show signs of it.

 _“Tiny Dancer”._   That’s what the song is called.  Gramps had a low, gravelly voice.  Honestly, he was not the best singer but Yuri loved hearing his Gramps sing along to the songs on the cassette player.  He preferred what was called ‘rock’ music over more upbeat, frivolous songs, but he often chose this song, _“Rocket Man”_ or _“Your Song”_ to teach him how to dance.

The song is over by the time they land on the Northwest coast of Pacific Ocean, the southwest corner of what used to be a country named Canada.  Technically, they are on the island off the coast, since the shopkeeper enjoyed the isolation that the island living offered.  (As if living anywhere on Earth didn’t feel isolated enough.)

“Yurochka!” the shopkeeper says, grinning.  “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Hi,” Yuri says.  “Shit happened.  Gramps got captured by the Empire.  This is Otabek, my, uh, business partner.”

Otabek waves.  The shopkeeper waves back. That reminds Yuri, he never did learn the name of the shopkeeper.

“The usual, then?”

Yuri smirks.  “Yes, please.  I’m surprised that you keep finding these.”

“You’ll be surprised what you can do when you practically own the whole planet.  War and strife hasn’t existed on Earth since it joined the Federation.  The worst you get is an odd glare here and there for being an ‘alien freak’.  Life could be worse.”

Yuri shrugs and accepts the small box of cassette tapes.  It’s a wonder how the frail plastic packaging survived through the ages.

“Oh, I even found a few vinyl records!” the shopkeeper enthuses.  “Sadly, only one of them is in a playable condition.”

“Thanks.  You’re the best.”  Yuri reaches into his coin pouch and takes out a handful of the Imperial coins.  It’s mostly a formality since the Imperial coins hold little value on Earth, thousands of galaxies away from the main Imperial systems where the economy thrives.

“You’re a doll.  Travel safely, my little pilot.  You, too, young man.  Keep an eye on Yuri, will ya?  I know he acts tough but he’s a real sweetheart deep underneath.”

Otabek nods. 

“I saw that,” Yuri snarls.

The shopkeeper waves, grinning.  “Please don’t wait eleven years before you turn up again.  It can get lonely by myself sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’ll see you around.”

 

 

Since Yuri doesn’t get to explore Earth often—and he was too young and dumb to care ten years ago—he sets course for the other side of Canada to what the navigator recognises as Gulf of St. Lawrence, more specifically, one of the islands on the water called Île d’Anticosti.  He’s glad that the space ship is capable of travelling at a speed close to light speed since the journey takes them mere minutes as opposed to several hours.

The isle is devoid of human activity, let alone a proper lodging facility.  Yuri sighs in relief and climbs into the personal storage area on his ship.  He digs out the camping supplies and chucks them to Otabek.  If not for his former soldier reflexes, the tent bag would have smacked him on his nose.

“I don’t think I’ve had the chance to use these in ages,” Yuri comments.  He usually sleeps in his ship but for some reason, he feels like sleeping out in the open.  Typically, setting up camping when he is by himself is ill-advised since thugs and rogues run rampant in most parts of the galaxy.  However, Earth is one of the safest planets, ironically in part thanks to its history.

The moon has reached its apex by the time Yuri and Otabek finish pitching the tent together.  The Earth’s moon is beautiful, unlike the ugly motherfuckers Yuri is used to seeing on Imperial planets and moons.  It’s probably the lack of Imperial technology and terraforming that makes the Earth’s moon so beautiful, bare and natural as it should be.

He lies barefoot on top of the sleeping bag in the tent.  He sits up when he hears clanking sounds outside.  When he goes out, still barefooted, he sees that Otabek as brought out the gramophone until an unfamiliar tune flows out from the horn.  The rich, metallic sound strikes a chord in Yuri’s heart.

Yuri snickers when Otabek outstretches a hand towards him.  Does he know what he is asking Yuri to do?

“Have you danced before?” Yuri asks.  Otabek tilts his head sideways, and nods after a long pause.

 

 _‘When your legs don’t work like they used to before_  
And I can’t sweep you off of your feet  
Will you mouth still remember the taste of my love?  
Will your eyes still smile from your cheek?’

 

Otabek is a terrible dancer.  They start out by swaying to the gentle guitar and kick drum beats.  The full moon over them bathes them in its glow, tinting Otabek’s tan skin in an eerie ashen hue.  He seems to be having fun, smiling with his eyes folded and lips stretched out to reveal dimples on his sharp jawline.

“Why are you so nice?” Yuri mumbles.  He lowers his head and buries it in Otabek’s warm chest.  Placing his head on Otabek’s beating heart calms him.  All the uncertainty and fear in his mind flies away.

He flinches when Otabek shifts his weight.  His arms wrapped tightly around Yuri’s torso, Otabek kisses the top of Yuri’s head.  Tears well up in Yuri’s eyes and they overflow.  Gramps used to be the only one who did that to him.  After a whole day spent tinkering with machines, Gramps would praise him and kiss his head, exactly like Otabek.

He doesn’t even know why he is crying.  Maybe he’s lonelier than he thought.  The damn shopkeeper was right all along.  For the tough front he put up, he has always missed the company of another.  Someone to care for him . . . to love him like Gramps once did

The song fades out and another one begins to play.  Yuri rubs his tearstained face on Otabek’s chest.  He can’t afford to be weak-hearted, not after all this time. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

_‘_ _I never knew you were the someone waiting for me  
'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love_

_Not knowing what it was_  
I will not give you up this time  
But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own  
And in your eyes you're holding mine

 _Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms_  
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath  
But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight.’

 

The song describes his own emotions better than he can ever hope to.  Perhaps what he feels for Otabek isn’t love yet.  It’s not something that can be labelled as something simple as ‘love’.  The warmth and relief he feels from being in close proximity of Otabek is too complicated for that.

Otabek, as usual, doesn’t say a thing.  He looks at Yuri straight in the eye and mouths the words that Yuri never thought he would hear someone say to him.

_‘I’m here for you.’_

And that alone makes him cry harder.  Like before, Otabek holds him up.  Yuri can’t feel any traces of judgment from Otabek as the loud, heaving sobs devolve into sniffles and wet hiccoughs.  Otabek hands him a water pouch, even going as far as holding it for Yuri as he gulps down the water.

Before Yuri is aware, sudden waves of drowsiness overwhelms him.  He sees the corner of Otabek’s mouth curl up as he stands up and carries Yuri over to the tent.  He tucks Yuri into his sleeping bag and sits down next to him.  He wants to ask Otabek to join him in the sleeping bag but he’s too sleepy for that.

Maybe he’ll do that tomorrow night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to [Lily](http://liliemm.tumblr.com) for this art collab! she gave me my first ever fanart and was gracious enough to draw out a scene from this chapter :3 I love you~♥

**Author's Note:**

> wanna come check out my [tumblr](http://www.kenmanyan-24.tumblr.com) ?


End file.
